Sons of Gryffindor
by Lone One
Summary: If you will listen, I shall tell you a story of great and terrible deeds, and of a friendship that shaped the course of history.
1. Chapter 1

_Greetings and salutations, readers! I present, for your enjoyment, a telling of the tale of Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs! I hope that some of you may enjoy this story; I want to experiment with some ideas about characterizations for the Marauders, and to do this, I am enlisting the help of Doran; please excuse his ego, which is overly large, to say the least. Please leave reviews- they are the food, drink and oxygen of a writer, as well as an excellent way to provide constructive criticism, which I love very much! Also, if anyone happens to be interested in beta'ing this story for me, please let me know! Thanks, and I hope you enjoy this tale. _

Hello there! You're new, aren't you? I thought so- all of you first years always look the same, so small and frightened and lost! You survived your Sorting, though, and now that you've all been Sorted into Gryffindor, oughtn't you to be acting a bit braver? I mean, really, you are in the house of the brave! What would your parents think if they could see you now, all sitting here in your new room, surrounded by new housemates and potential friends, with faces as long as yours are right now? Honestly, children, you ought to be having the time of your lives!

What's that? Who am I? Must you even ask that question? I am Doran- have none of your parents mentioned me? What a shame - I thought I had made more of an impression on many of them when they were here. As you can see, I am a painting of a boy; before you ask, let me assure you that I am not based on any subject who actually lived, which is why I am the unique character that I am. You see, most paintings are based on a real person, and when painted by a magic-user, they take on the personality and memories of the subject. I, however, am unusual, in that I was painted entirely from my artist's imagination. He made me up, you see- or so he claims, but I am convinced that I thought myself up. Because of this, my personality and thoughts are all my own, and I am indebted to no one for them! My artist, a brilliant wizard of exceptional artistic ability, if I do say so myself, likened himself to Pythagorus after I was completed; he always said that he choose to paint the boy you see before you, exactly as I am. I am supposed to be a young boy, although I do not know how old he thought I ought to look- I have been told that I look eight, and that I look twelve. It doesn't matter, I suppose- I am far wiser than any child of such an age would be; I have seen far more than any of you have. I was painted just over a hundred years ago, and was placed in the Gryffindor common room exactly one hundred years ago tonight. And what a night that was!

But be comforted- you are no different from any of the classes of new Gryffindors I have seen come through here in the past century. All have been frightened and anxious, though many have hidden their fears better than you do! I suppose that despite the fact that it is late and you all have classes tomorrow, none of you are ready to sleep yet? I can see it in your faces- you are too nervous. Very well then; I shall once again take up my storyteller's mantle, and share a tale of the past with you, until you are ready for sleep.

No, no- don't protest! I have performed this service for students for as long as I have been here; it is no trouble, let me assure you! In fact, I quite enjoy having people to tell tales to- it can be very lonely being a painting, let me tell you. That's right, all of you lie down in your beds- that's good, boys. Now, let me see- what tale shall I tell? I know- I will share with you the story of my own first night at Hogwarts.

At the time, I was newly painted, and knew almost nothing of the world or of people- I was quite the child myself! They brought me in and hung me upon the wall, and I got my first look at the Gryffindor common room. It looked just the same then as it did now, although some of the furniture has been destroyed and replaced since then. Then Albus Dumbledore came in to speak to me- you all know of him, don't you? Of course you do! He was the new headmaster at that point, and was known for his unorthodox methods and style; the fact that he personally came to welcome a new painting was astounding. He smiled at me just as if I had been a real child- oh, how his eyes twinkled, like bright stars were caught in their depths!

"Hello, Doran." Dumbledore's voice- I remember it so clearly now- bright and merry, but with such a feeling of power behind it. "I hope your trip here was pleasant? I would like to welcome you to Hogwarts; please feel free to talk to me at any time! As a Gryffindor painting, I must ask you not to enter any of the other common rooms, but other than that, feel yourself free to move around the castle. I believe you will find that there are paintings hung in almost every room of this castle, and as long as the occupants of these paintings do not object, you may move through them freely, giving you access to the entire castle." Dumbledore smiled at me again, kindly, and I was so grateful for his warmth and welcome that I had a difficult time responding properly, but he waved away my awkward thanks. "I am aware that you are a unique painting, Doran, and I wish to make your stay here as pleasant as possible. Just because you are a painting does not mean that you have no feelings, and I wish to be considerate of those. Now, if you are interested, the students are about to arrive; if you would like to observe the proceedings, please follow me, and I will lead you to where you will be able to see." Of course I wanted to see, so I followed Dumbledore eagerly.

We came to the entrance hallway- where you came in tonight, through the big thick wooden doors, if you remember? Well, we were just in time; the Deputy Headmistress was just opening the doors, looking as fierce and imposing as she possibly could. The first years outside- oh, I still remember their faces so clearly! Most looked terrified, absolutely white and shaking in their shoes, and so it was the few exceptions who fascinated me most.

The first child I saw was rather unexceptional in appearance, though if you saw a picture of him, you would disagree with me - that face and one very like it became famous later on. His hair was wild and unruly- so very unlike my own neat, shining tresses! He was not overly tall, nor was he short; his round glasses set him apart from others, though. He did not look frightened; he appeared entirely confident in himself, and merely glanced around curiously before quickly putting on a mask of detached boredom.

A few steps behind him stood another boy, also dark haired, but this child was well favored in appearance and in bearing. He was obviously used to good manners and opulent surroundings, but what caught my attention about the boy was the look of delight on his handsome face as he stepped through the door. His face was literally shining with joy, and his eyes were gleaming brightly. He stood a bit straighter, I thought, and threw his shoulders back proudly as he passed through the door.

A third boy with dark hair stood far from the first two, but his face was sullen and dark rather than joyful, and he kept shooting baleful glares at other students around him. His hair looked as though it could use a good wash, and his hooked nose was far too large for his face. He was obviously too full of anger and unpleasant feelings to bother with anxiety.

My eyes fell next on a girl whose red hair shone brightly in the candle light. Her face was set in an expression of determination, and she raised her chin slightly, as if taking on a challenge. She seemed ready to spring into action at any moment, and was obviously taking great pains to ensure that she did not appear nervous at all.

Shortly behind the pretty girl stood a short, round boy - I always thought he ought to cut down on the sweets that he ate, but I never did say that to him- that would have been inexcusably rude, of course. His hair was blond, and with his round face and gaping mouth, he ought to have appeared a total idiot, but did not merely because of the bruise on his face. It looked as though someone else had punched him several times in the face, probably within the last few hours; the child certainly looked sour and crabby enough for me to believe that he had, in fact, been involved in an altercation in the recent past.

The last child I noticed in the brief moments before the children were ushered into the Great Hall stood apart from all of the others, although he did not seem to bear them any malice. In fact, his face was more devoid of emotion than any other in the room; he seemed almost supernaturally calm and composed in the face of the noise and confusion around him. He stood like an island of serenity, a few strands of his light brown hair falling in his eyes as he observed the other children quietly.

And then they were moving, and I with them, into the Great Hall. They all filed up to the front of the hall, to where the teachers sat waiting, looking for all the world as if they were preparing to pass judgement on the children who stared at them with such wide eyes. I suppose they were, in a way, for the Sorting Hat- yes, the same hat you all wore tonight- does judge. The judgements of the hat are very rarely wrong, but for good or for ill, the judgement that each child sat under had an effect on the shape of the rest of their lives. How many students have learned to be loyal because of their placement in Hufflepuff House? How many pronounced Gryffindor have been forced to learn bravery? Do not fear, children- you are all Gryffindors at heart, even if you yourselves doubt it now. The Sorting Hat knows, you see, and in time you will all come to see for yourselves that it was right about you. You will all be brave as lions one day; less than adept at planning ahead, perhaps, and likely headstrong and reckless, but ever so brave. I have seen it a hundred times.

But that night, you ask? Yes, yes, I will continue! You yourselves have seen one Sorting ceremony, and that night's was no different from your own, except in the names that were called. I paid such close attention to all of the new Gryffindors - or at least I tried to, but as the students kept coming, it because so difficult! I finally decided to keep a close eye on all of the children I had taken a particular interest in earlier, and vowed to myself that I would certainly learn who the rest of them were, in time. My spiky-haired lad, and the joyful one, were placed in Gryffindor; the boy with bad hair went to Slytherin, which I was later to learn was the home of the arch-rivals of my new house. The red-headed girl went to Gryffindor as well, which made me glad - she was really very pretty- and the boy with the bruises, as well as the calm child. I was quite excited- so many of the children who interested me were going to be in my house!

The feast was long, I must say; being unable to eat, and being unnoticed by any of the students, ghosts, or other paintings, I did not have much to do but watch others eat. I must confess that feasts always bother me slightly; I so dislike the feeling that I am not a part of the school's life, and having to stand and watch as others partake in a feast does make me feel lonely. But enough about that!

I followed closely as the prefects led the way back to Gryffindor tower, hoping that I would learn my own way there soon. While I waited for the students to enter, I introduced myself to the lady in the painting that guarded the secret entrance to the tower; she is a kind woman, if rather hard to approach at first. By the time that I entered the tower, the students had mostly disappeared, all leaving for their own dormitory rooms. I had no idea where anything was, but taking a guess, I made my way up the wall to the side of one staircase, and entered one of the rooms inconspicuously. To my delight, I was in the room of the first year boys - this very room, if you will believe it! That year's enrollment was small- at the time, you see, the world was just recovering from a very difficult time, involving the dark wizard Grindlewald, and many were still afraid, or had fled the country, or were simply dead. Consequently, there were only four first year boys- less than half as many as there are of you now! I sat quietly in a painting in a corner of the room and observed the boys.

The calm one was getting ready for bed quickly and efficiently; the bruised boy sat on a corner of his bed and glared at the joyful lad. Finally, it seemed he could take it no more, and the boy jumped to his feet, his bruised face angry.

"Why'd you hit me on the train? I wasn't hurting you at all, you know!" The joyful boy looked sober, and gazed at the other quietly for a moment.

"Peter Pettigrew, right?" He asked, narrowing his eyes slightly. "Well, I'll tell you. I hit you because I heard what you were saying- about purebloods and - and "Mudbloods" and half-bloods. My family is obsessed with that nonsense about blood and purity and all that rot, and I won't tolerate it from a fellow student. So, as long as you don't ever attempt to insult or degrade another student on the basis of their family or blood type again, we'll have no problems, right?" The boy smiled brightly and put out his hand to Peter.

"Hang on." The spiky haired boy spoke up, directing an unfriendly look at the second child. "You're Sirius Black, aren't you? One of _those_ Blacks? Your family is entirely obsessed with blood- your family is a load of dark wizards and witches, all involved in making life miserable for anyone not pure enough for your standards! Where d'you get off with hitting Peter for saying the same kinds of things?"

Sirius dropped his hand and stared cooly at the boy. "My family is wrong. My family is a load of bigoted, biased morons. I want nothing to do with them or with their ideas, and I would appreciate not being lumped in with the rest of them. You will notice that, unlike the rest of my family, I was not placed in Slytherin. Doesn't that tell you anything, James Potter?" Potter looked skeptical for a moment, staring fixedly at Sirius as if he could divine his true intentions by staring hard enough. Finally he nodded, and smiled somewhat abashedly.

"I believe you. Sorry- I shouldn't have assumed that you would be like the rest of them, I suppose." The three boys shook hands in a friendly manner, and then looked around, obviously curious about the whereabouts of their fourth roommate. The last boy had apparently readied himself for bed, climbed in, and fallen asleep in the amount of time it had taken the others to introduce themselves and work out their differences. The boy's bed sat next to the window, and the light of the newly-waning moon fell upon him as he lay, still as death, in a deep sleep.

"Friendly type." James said sarcastically, shaking his head and pulling a wry face at the sleeping boy.

"You must admit he has the right idea, though." Sirius yawned, and within moments, all four boys were fast asleep.

And now, my young lions, you should also sleep. I see in your eyes that you are tired. No, no, protest as you will, I will not tell any more of this tale tonight. Yes, they were exceptional people, and I know you wish to hear the story from a source other than a textbook - and believe me, I am the one to ask! I know more about the tale than anyone else living, and I will share it with you - but not all tonight! Sleep now; perhaps you will dream of the brave men you will become. You might think of the boys from my tale; three of them became numbered among the bravest and best that history has produced. Someday, you may be as brave as they were, those true sons of Gryffindor.


	2. Chapter 2

So you're back, are you? I imagine you've had quite the busy day, what with classes starting and everything - and what, only one out for detention? That's rather different; most years we have several first years in detention after the first day- you Gryffindors can't seem to keep yourselves out of trouble for long! The rest of you, though- you're wanting to hear more of the story I was telling you last night?

Well of course you want to hear what happened to them! They were terribly interesting people, you know, all of them, and it was one of the greatest pleasures of my existence to watch them learn and grow here. I won't say that I was their friend- how could a painting ever be a real person's friend? But I do believe I had an unparalleled opportunity to watch them and to spend time in their company. I consider myself extremely privileged to have been witness to the birth and growth of the greatest friendship that Hogwarts has seen; there are times I almost expect to see them come around a corner, laughing and smiling like they used to so long ago...although none of them ever became ghosts and returned to haunt this place, their spirits are still a part of Hogwarts, and especially of this house.

So let me see...last night I told you of how the four boys who were to become such friends spent their first night at Hogwarts. The next day was no less busy than your own has certainly been, and at the time, I knew so little of Hogwarts that I determined that I would follow them to their classes to see what life was really like around the castle. I was awake before any of them that first morning, practically quivering with excitement. The calm child woke first, sitting up and looking around quietly. He looked quizzically out the window, and seemed to be able to tell the time by observing the sun, for he rose and began to prepare himself for the day, with a few brief glances at the beds where his new roommates slept on. James woke next, and sat up noisily, yawning loudly and stretching extravagantly.

"Oh, hello." James said, observing that the other boy was awake. "I don't seem able to remember your name from last night - I'm James Potter, of course, but who are you?" The boy looked over at him as he spoke, his face displaying nothing but polite attention.

"I'm Remus Lupin" the boy said, his voice light and pleasant. "Sorry to have fallen asleep last night before introducing myself- I was rather tired, you see." Remus continued to move around, packing his school bag methodically; James scratched his head as he replied.

"That's all right, I suppose. Guess we ought to wake the others up, eh?" James looked at the bed next to his, where Sirius lay snoring loudly, and then to the last bed in the room, where Peter was invisible under a pile of blankets. James bounced out of bed and scurried over to wake the others, which he accomplished loudly and violently. Remus stood to the side and watched, his face displaying nothing more than mild interest as his roommates scuffled and yelled at each other. Finally, battered and bruised, the other three managed to get themselves ready for the day, and the four set out to eat.

I followed them as closely as possible as they made their way to the Great Hall for breakfast, and I watched with great interest as they sat down to eat. James, Peter and Sirius sat close together, and followed Gryffindor traditions of eating loudly and with frequent interruptions. Remus, on the other hand, took a seat some distance from the others, and opened a textbook as he ate. The others took note of this eventually, and made faces at each other, seemingly indicating such thoughts as "what's wrong with him-what is he doing with a textbook?" and "stuck up, isn't he?" and "you're hogging all the bacon, leave some for me, you greedy git!" and from Peter, "help! I'm choking! Help, help! Guys?" After James and Sirius had pounded Peter on the back for a while, and his face had returned to it's normal pinkish shade rather than an ugly bluish-gray, Sirius tossed a roll at Remus' head. With lightening-fast reflexes, Lupin caught it from the air without looking up from his book, and took a bite. Then he turned to Sirius, with a mildly questioning look on his face.

"Don't you want to sit with us? It's loads more fun than reading a boring old schoolbook." James said; it sounded less like a question than a command. Remus gave a smile that somehow did not reach his eyes.

"Thank you for the invitation, but I really think I ought to look at this material before class. It wouldn't do to be unprepared on the first day of class, would it?" He returned to his book, placing the bitten roll on the plate in front of him, which was nearly full of food that had hardly been touched.

"Well, guess Lupin's too good to eat with the likes of us!" Sirius said, his temper roused. "Have to get your studying in to prove that you're smarter than the rest of us, eh?" Lupin did not allow this comment to upset him; he merely looked at Sirius for a moment, his face impassive, before tilting shaking his head to indicate that the other boy was wrong, and returning to his book. Sirius seemed rather subdued by this response, and went back to eating his breakfast, although all three of the boys continued to shoot unfriendly glances at Lupin, sitting alone. I wondered if it bothered him, being alone; it bothered me sometimes. I had a strange feeling that Lupin and I had some things in common, however silly that might have seemed. After all, he was a real boy, a normal wizard who could interact with others as easily as he could breathe, whereas I was merely Doran, nothing more than a painting of a child. I decided at that point that Remus Lupin was one to watch.

The children finished breakfast, finally, and headed to their first class, which happened to be Transfiguration. Back then, the class was taught by Minerva McGonagall, the deputy headmistress of Hogwarts- a truly admirable woman, to say the least. She did not allow any nonsense in her classes; strict she was, to be sure, but also a wonderful teacher, one of the best I have seen at Hogwarts this past century. The Gryffindors were placed with the Ravenclaw students for that class, and they all managed to get along with each other fairly well.

Now children, you must understand; back in those days, there was a great deal of inter-house rivalry. In recent years there has been a great improvement in the relations between the houses, and you think nothing of visiting each other's common rooms or spending time together. When the children I am telling you about were attending school a hundred years ago, however, the houses did not get along well. While the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs managed to get along fairly well with everyone, it was the rare day that did not see a fight of some kind between the Gryffindors and Slytherins. They are too alike, you see, both impulsive and hotheaded, in their own ways, but their methods are different. At the time, the subject of the purity of wizarding blood was also a matter of great importance to many, causing more tensions between students. Many Slytherin students were committed to preserving the purity of blood, while the Gryffindors were equally adamant about accepting students of all backgrounds and families. Do you understand now some of the politics of the situation? Good, good.

The Transfiguration lesson progressed well, and I found myself wishing that I had a wand and a textbook, as I wanted to learn what the students were learning. All too soon, the class was over, and I prepared to leave with the students. Professor McGonagall stopped Remus Lupin before he left the room, and asked if she might have a private word, and I was tempted to remain in the classroom to observe this conversation, but then decided against it. I thought that if she was insisting on a "private" conversation, it was not my place to intrude, but I found myself curious as to why she wished to speak to the calm, controlled student. He had certainly presented no problems in her class, unlike some of the other first years. I accompanied the students to their next class, which was Charms, but remained outside the door. As I had suspected, Remus came along a few moments later, his face somewhat flushed from hurrying through the corridors, but still as composed as ever.

"E-excuse me!" I managed to say as the boy rushed by. "I- er, I believe this is your classroom." Remus stopped, glanced at the door, and then turned back to me.

"Why, so it is. Thank you very much - I would have missed it." With another of his small smiles, he inclined his head to me politely before entering the room. I was surprised by his courteous behavior towards me, and more than a little impressed. Feeling generally contented with the world, I joined the class, and watched hungrily as the students learned still more magic.

I followed the Gryffindors to all of their classes that day, and learned more about the school than I could possibly describe. That night, as the first year boys returned to their dormitory, I snuck in again to watch them unobtrusively. Remus was sitting on his bed working on the homework they had been assigned that day, while the other three were playing Exploding Snap and eating sweets that James seemed to have snuck into Hogwarts in his luggage. After a few minutes, Sirius looked up with a wicked expression in his eyes, and grabbing a pillow, flung it at Lupin's head, causing him to blot the ink on his work. He looked thoughtfully at the parchment before shaking his head slightly, removing the pillow from his bed, and picking up a new bit of parchment to redo the ruined homework. Sirius scowled.

"Hey Loopy, are you going to ignore us forever?"

"No." Remus said courteously, still working on his homework. "I'm just trying to get my work done, that's all."

"But it's not due for _days_!" Peter said, his voice squeaky in his excitement. It was apparently entertaining to him to see his roommates disagree.

"Still, I see no reason to procrastinate" Remus said, glancing at the others with his customary little smile; no matter how many times I saw it, I could not feel that there was any real emotion beneath it. It seemed to infuriate the other boys, for they turned away, muttering amongst themselves. Remus shrugged philosophically and returned to his work. I could see the faces of the others, though, and they bothered me, for they seemed to genuinely dislike Lupin. I did not see why, as he had been nothing but polite and kind to any of them; I decided I had a great deal to learn about humans, small wizard boys in particular.

Yes, boys, I am very glad that none of you dislike each other! You must be good friends, you know, for you will never have greater friends than those you make here at Hogwarts. Friendship is a gift, freely given, but expensive to maintain, and must be taken care of gently or it will dissolve, blown away like dust in the wind. I have seen many friendships come to an end in that way, but I have also seen friendships that have lasted for years, that have held people together through the hardest times and the worst troubles you can imagine. Friendship is a powerful and mysterious thing, and I have four young Gryffindor boys to thank for teaching me about it. Few things, it seems to me, have the power and strength of a true friendship; in the right circumstances, the influence of friendship can even shape the course of history.

Now you must sleep, young lions. Tomorrow is another big day, and it would not do for you to be too tired to stay awake through your lessons- though I am sure everyone would understand, were you to sleep through History of Magic. Professor Binns has been putting students to sleep very consistently for over a hundred years, after all! But for now, sleep, and we will talk and share tales again tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3

_Greetings, dear readers! I hope that you have all returned eager to hear my tale; I do not deny that I, Doran, am a master storyteller, so it does not surprise me that some of you may wish for more of my tale! I wish to ask that any and all criticisms and comments on spelling and grammar be directed towards the author, as they are entirely her fault and none of mine; praise should always be given to me! Now, on with the brave tale, and may your hearts be joyful! _

Good evening! You all look very tired this evening- what's that? A food fight in the Great Hall? Ah, how wonderful! I'm sorry I missed it; no matter how many of those I witness, I never seem to tire of them. I always enjoy seeing even the dignified and proper students joining in the fun; it gives students from all years and houses a chance to act like children for a few moments. Imagine that, if you will, though it sounds rather ridiculous, but these days the tendency is for children to grow up so very fast. There is no time or tolerance for childish behavior. Well, never fear, boys- you are Gryffindors, which means that long-standing tradition grants you the right to act like children for the entirety of your seven years here. In fact, it is expected! Over the past century, I have watched Gryffindors of all ages and abilities come through, and they all learned to be children. It is a necessary step on the path to learning to be an adult.

My boys- ah, I always seem to think of them that way, for some reason, as if I had some kind of claim on them. But that is foolish- I have no claim but that of memory, mine being the only living memory of those four that survives intact to this day. So many magical things have been destroyed over the years - so much history is shrouded in darkness because there are no witnesses left. Well, I am a witness, and I am willing to share parts of history with you. Yes, Stephen, I know that it does not seem like history to you - but then, who ever said history had to be boring?

I will continue my history, then, the story of my boys. As you may recall, last night I told you that all but Remus had become friends with the others rapidly. Since I found myself liking all four of the boys, I sincerely hoped that the others would soon befriend Remus; I wanted my Gryffindors to get along well. Those first few weeks were very busy, for me as well as for the students, as I insisted on following the first year Gryffindors around wherever they went, as I wanted to see and learn as much about Hogwarts as I could from within the confines of canvas. My own painting hung in a secluded corner of the Gryffindor common room; unfortunately for me, the relative privacy of my corner provided an excellent opportunity for students to engage in activities that they would rather keep hidden from others, and as watching teenagers publicly display their affections for one another was not exactly appealing to me, I spent very little time in my own painting. Fortunately for me, the paintings at Hogwarts are a roving bunch, all inclined to wander, and as most of the older figures liked to congregate in certain areas of the school less likely to be disturbed by the sounds of children, there were always empty portraits for me to occupy on my trips around the school. Something you children may not quite realize is exactly how large Hogwarts is- there are many passageways and rooms that have not been entered by any student or teacher for many years now; they sit and gather dust in silence, holding onto the memories of the generations they have seen come and go. Just a word of advice for curious explorers - it really does help to make a map! But as I was saying, I did like to wander back then, and I discovered much of the castle as I followed in the tracks of students.

As I followed my boys through their first few weeks at Hogwarts, I began to learn a great deal about each of them. They all had their own strengths and weaknesses in their classes, and their personalities were so very different that it was sometimes difficult to understand how they could get along at all! To my disappointment, I saw that the three friends were not making any efforts to befriend Remus; in all honesty, he was not making any great effort either. He was never unfriendly or offensive in any way, and he made clear efforts to spend time with the others and to engage in polite conversation, but he was a self-contained and solitary child. The other three were great mischief-makers, pranksters who delighted in wreaking havoc, although they were careful to make sure that no one was harmed by their pranks. Unless, of course, they wanted that person to be harmed, in which case, they invariably were. The three did not seem to have overly developed moral codes- but then who am I to judge, I who spent all of my time spying on them?

They took especial delight in tormenting the Slytherin students - now, now, don't look so shocked, Jonathan! If you'll remember, I told you last night that the Gryffindors and Slytherins got on exceptionally badly back then? You must realize, at that time there was a great deal of fear on both sides. The Gryffindors feared the rise of another dark wizard like Grindlewald, and the Slytherins feared the dissolution of their way of life. They were convinced that to allow Muggle-born students to study magic and to intermarry with the pureblooded wizards and witches would cause their entire society to collapse or to reform itself into a shape not of their choosing. While these concerns occupied the adults far more than the children of that time, children are very good at picking up on things they are not told; they knew that their parents were afraid, and knew who was to blame. James and the other Gryffindors had strong aversions to Dark Magic of all forms, and in their stubborn, obstinate ways, were convinced that all Slytherins used Dark Magic. As people used to remind each other then, "there's not one witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't a Slytherin!" Of course, we know better than that, and so did they, but prejudice, you see, blinds people to the truth. Understanding this, you must not judge them too harshly - though they were indeed responsible for their unkind actions, they were greatly shaped by their circumstances and the culture in which they were raised. It is far too easy to judge those who came before us for their failures, but understanding must temper our harsh judgements.

So what was I saying? Ah yes- the three boys used to greatly enjoy playing tricks on Slytherin students. Many was the time they sent a Slytherin to the hospital wing after a potion "accidentally" exploded in class; after their third week of classes, everyone was ready to swear that James and Sirius had never once managed to complete a potion properly, though everyone was also aware that both students had the ability to do so, should they ever decide that applying themselves to their schoolwork was more beneficial than using it to cause green blotches to appear on enemy skin, or to make an adversary's hands look like scorpions. Thanks to this constant mischief, the three spent a great deal of time in detention - always in separate detentions, though, because no teacher would be stupid enough to put any two of them together.

At the end of their third week of classes, I learned a great deal about Peter Pettigrew. That Friday morning in Transfiguration, Peter was having a difficult time with his work; he was not as brilliant as his roommates, and often needed assistance to keep up with classwork. Despite Peter's cold behavior towards him, Remus was always willing to lend a hand (unless it was with potions, as he fought his own battles with that subject) and assist Peter with his work. He was an excellent tutor, I must say, and I often learned more by listening to him than from attending the classes with the students.

"Mr. Pettigrew!" Professor McGonagall said sharply, running out of patience. "Did you read the chapter at all before class?"

"Err, I - that is, no, professor." Peter said, hanging his head. The professor shook her head sighing.

"Well, since we cannot have you slowing down the progress of this class today, I am afraid we will have to move on, and you will need to get another student to assist you with your studies this evening. I will expect to see improved results by next class. Normally, I would suggest that Mr. Potter or Mr. Black assist you-"

"Sorry! Can't!" James said cheerfully. The boy was nearly always cheerful. "Love to, you see, but we have detention this evening."

"As well as every other evening this week." Sirius put in helpfully, flashing his most charming smile.

"And for the next hundred years." James finished, sounding gleeful.

"Yes." McGonagall said dryly, looking far from amused. I, however, was having a difficult time not laughing aloud. "I know, as I am the one who was forced to give you a week's worth of detention not fifteen minutes ago, Mr. Potter! Now, as I was saying, Mr. Pettigrew, since both of your friends will be otherwise occupied this evening, perhaps Mr. Lupin would be kind enough..."

"Ah, right." Remus said, looking up from his careful notes, which he had been emending. His face was as kindly devoid of expression as was usual as he replied, although I though he looked more pale and tired than was normal. He did not seem to be letting illness interfere with his work, though, so I supposed I was probably imagining things. "I'm very sorry, Professor, Peter, but I will not be able to help either; I'm going home to visit my sick grandmother tonight." He gave a small apologetic smile.

"Oh, right, of- of course, Mr. Lupin. I'm sorry- I had quite forgotten." McGonagall looked rather flustered; unusual for her, I thought, but I did not know why. "Right then- Anna, would you be willing to help Peter study?"

Anna, a pretty Ravenclaw girl who was quite good in Transfigurations, nodded, and McGonagall was finally able to get on with the business of teaching her class. I wondered, though, why Peter suddenly looked so sour and sullen.

After dinner that evening, the four were up in their dormitory together for a few moments. Remus was quietly packing a small, worn satchel with the things he would need during his visit to his grandmother. James and Sirius were putting off going to detention, even though they knew they would likely be in trouble if they were late, and Peter was sulking.

"Going to St. Mungo's?" James asked Remus suddenly. "My father knows most everyone who works there- he's very important, you see."

"That's nice, but no, I'm not going there. My grandmother's a Muggle, you see, so it would probably be a bit of a shock to her to spend time at a wizarding hospital." Remus replied.

"Your grandmother's a Muggle?" Peter said, astonished out of his sulks.

"Yes- my grandfather too, actually. My father was Muggle-born, you see - first wizard in his family." Remus finished packing, stood, and looked out the window towards the setting sun. "I have to get going - see you in a few days, and good luck with your studies, Peter." Ducking his head in something like a courteous bow, Remus left the room. James and Sirius followed a minute later, finally deciding to attend their detentions.

Peter was left alone, looking both surprised and angry about something. Muttering to himself, he headed to the library to meet Anna. Their study session lasted about half and hour, with Anna trying patiently to help him with his difficulties, but Peter was in a worse mood than I had ever seen from him. He was quite rude to the poor girl, snapping at her and refusing to make an effort. Finally she stood, a look of annoyance on her face.

"What is your problem, Pettigrew? I try to help you and this is the thanks I get?"

"Help me? You're just trying to make me look stupid, to make me fail!" Peter sneered, his usually pleasant face looking quite disturbing. "I can't believe McGonagall wants me to work with a filthy little Mudblood!" I apologize for the language, children, but it was his word, not mine!

"What did you just call me?" Anna was furious now.

"A Mudblood, because you are one! And you dare to act as though you're better than me- I'm a pureblood, I can trace my family back-"

With a resounding crack, Anna slapped Peter across the face and stormed out of the library. Peter resembled nothing so much as a gasping fish as he sat gaping after her, until a low, nasty chuckle made him whirl around.

"That must hurt, Pettigrew, insulted and beaten up by a Mudblood!" Severus Snape, the rather greasy Slytherin first-year who got on especially badly with Peter and his friends, sat with a satisfied smirk on his face.

"Not a word from you, Snape!" Peter said in a threatening tone. "If you breathe a word of this to anyone, my friends will get you for it, I'll see that they do!"

"Hiding behind your friends as well as your blood, Pettigrew? Not very brave at all, are you? Though I can understand you, you know. You have nothing to be proud of except the purity of your blood. You have no talent, no charisma, no looks, and though your family may be pureblood, they have no name or money! You are truly a sad case, Pettigrew." And with that, Snape left, sweeping away rapidly.

I thought hard. I had seen a side of Peter that I had never known existed before. It was true that compared to his bigger friends, Peter might seem somewhat lacking to the casual observer, but they accepted him for who he was, and I had grown fond of him in my own way, as I had all the boys. Peter was not stupid, not by a long shot, but he had trouble memorizing things and the theory in many subjects tended to trip him up. Still, he performed fairly well despite these difficulties; his biggest problem was that he did not like to put forth the effort in studying, and so ended up falling behind the class. Being friends with James and Sirius did nothing to help this tendency, as they both hated doing their homework and would often procrastinate until the last moment. Peter was, however, a good and loyal friend, and could be a great deal of fun as he had a sly sense of humor that could often go unnoticed by those who did not know him well.

Despite his good characteristics, however, it seemed that Snape had hit a nerve in Peter. He sat at the table, glaring silently at his book, before slamming it shut and leaving the library in a huff, followed by the librarian, who was scolding him harshly in a barely audible whisper because he was being too loud. He stalked up to Gryffindor tower, where he sat down on his bed, his face still dark and unpleasant. Observing that there was no-one around (with the exception of a certain painting of a handsome boy, but who notices paintings?), Peter jumped to his feet and started pacing, talking to himself in an unhappy mutter.

"Snape's wrong! I'm not afraid! I don't think I'm worthless, like he said, I just- it's just... Well, I've always been proud of my family! I've had every reason to be! We're an old family, and I was told to uphold the family honor, and my father always said that it would be trouble if we mixed with Mudbloods... we are purebloods! Why shouldn't I be proud of that? At least it's one thing about me that no one can insult! If nothing else, I know that no-one is better than me in that area! Is that so wrong, wanting to have something to be proud of?" Now Peter was agitated, pacing faster, swinging his hands about as he talked.

"And Anna- she probably was just trying to make me look bad! Those Ravenclaws, always thinking they're so smart! She knows that if I fail, she'll look better- it's not my fault I have so many problems with that work, it's just that people are trying to sabotage me!" He kicked the corner of his trunk, then sat down quickly on his bed as his toes began to hurt fiercely. I've always wondered what that felt like, by the way - to be physically hurt or sick. Curious thought. Anyway, as I was saying, Peter was still thinking aloud. His eyes narrowed as he hit on another subject.

"And Lupin- he's a halfblood, is he? I knew I never liked him; James and Sirius are obviously much better sorts- both purebloods like me. Lupin must be jealous, or maybe he feels inferior to us - and he ought to! After all, since our blood is pure, it must mean that we're stronger and better than he is. I wish I didn't have to live with a half-blood - I mean, better than living with a Mudblood, but still- they oughtn't to have Sorted someone like that into the same house as James and Sirius and me! He doesn't belong here. I don't like him."

Now Peter was sulking, sitting on his bed, clutching his swollen toes, tears prickling his eyes as he pouted. "Why can't he see that he's not wanted and just go away? Well, I don't think James or Sirius like him either; they can help me! It's nice to have friends that people are afraid of." Peter thought again for a moment. "I wish people were afraid of me too- then I wouldn't have to threaten them with my friends, and I wouldn't ever have to be afraid of bigger students, and they wouldn't dare insult me..." Peter was getting sleepy, his words slowing and slurring as he lay down on his pillow. "No-one would bother me. I want to be strong. Make the bad people go away; make the Mudbloods leave me alone. Then nobody could hurt my family's honor..." Peter drifted off to sleep, his quiet snores finally reaching my ears, and I sat in thought in the near silence.

Peter was a proud person, that I had already known, but he did not have much to take pride in, so he had decided that his family honor and the purity of his blood were traits that he could pride himself upon, even though they had next to nothing to do with him. That pride, however, made him lash out against others who he saw as a threat, and apparently he thought that any wizard who was not a pureblood was threatening to those ideals. I wished that I had had the nerve to speak to him; I would have advised him to, instead, take pride in accomplishments of his own. Then he wouldn't need to feel frightened of people just because of their ancestry (which I, having none, found rather ridiculous!).

I was still pondering all of this when James and Sirius returned, and I wondered what they would think of Peter's prejudices. I knew for a fact that Sirius found the prejudice against non-purebloods to be very distasteful; he had punched Peter for that exact kind of behavior on the train, and since that time, Peter had never shown signs of those feelings or thoughts, until this evening. Yes, Sirius would likely be quite upset if he found out how Peter had treated Anna, so I assumed that Peter would make no mention of the incident. After that evening, I thought I understood Peter somewhat better. It did not make me respect him more, but I thought that I had a clearer understanding of how he thought and felt. I was glad for that; the more time I spent with these boys, the more I wished to know about them and understand them.

Yes, Darren, it was very wrong of Peter to treat Anna that way, but like I said, his parents had taught him that that was right. He didn't know, like you do, that everyone is equal, no matter what their bloodtype. What's that? You want to hear more about James, do you? Well, I shall tell you more about him tomorrow night, that I shall. You may not get tired of listening to my tale, but I do tire after telling it for a while. Patience, now, and you will hear more before long!


End file.
